Hero Bootcamp
by Maranwe Elanor
Summary: Elrond and Glorfindel host a . . . well, bootcamp, to determine who the next heroes are going to be. That's the best summary I can come up with. If you want more, read.


Title: Hero Bootcamp 

Author: Maranwe 

Summary: Elrond and Glorfindel host a . . . well, bootcamp, to determine who the next heroes are going to be. That's the best summary I can come up with. If you want more, read. 

Rating: PG-13 at most 

Disclaimer: They're not mine, any of them. If they were, I wouldn't have to share them. I have no money so don't sue. I borrowed some of my ideas from other fics I've read, so if you see one of your situations, I may have gotten the idea from you. Just the story is mine, the characters and ideas for situations came from other people and if I could remember who they were, I would list them. Suffice it to say most of the lovely situations described later in the story were inspired by Cassia and Sio from their Mellon Chornicles. Oh, and Celboril is theirs as well. I won't do anything to him. 

Author's Notes: Um. . . . None, I guess. Well, It's not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Feel free to offer up your opinions, I wouldn't be posting if I minded them, so shoot. This is a stand alone and goes with no other series or anything like that. It doesn't even fit into any timeline. So, that said, have fun! 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

The sun was up, its light spilling across the back porch of the Last Homely House in Rivendell, where everyone was currently gathered, quietly talking amongst themselves as birds sang and their music brough peace to all assembled. It was a perfect day, the temperature just warm enough to be comfortable to all and sundry without being hot, and a gentle breeze wafted teasingly across the land to stop the air form becoming oppressive. The only thing missing was the speaker they were expecting. 

A problem which was remedied when Lord Elrond entered followed by Glorfindel, both looking regal and immacuately dressed in valor blue robes with gold trim and silver robes tipped in white, respectively. Aragorn and Legolas shared a brief smile, their amusement something only best friends could understand, as the two elves stepped forward onto the dias at the front of the hall, their arrival quieting the many conversations around the room and sending everyone to their seats. 

Lord Elrond addressed them. "Welcome, friends of old and strangers from distant lands. You have been summoned here to be initiated into the respected field of Fanfiction Hero." Excited murmurs broke out amongst the gathered. Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged amused looks. The elf lord raised his hands to regain everyone's attention and silence fell once more. "I know you are all excited; the hero gets all the fame, luck, and wealth he could ever desire, placed forever into the memory of all by his great deeds . . . in the end. But being a hero--especially a Fanfiction Hero--is not all glitz and glamour. The authors can and will take whatever liberties they desire." His gaze traveled warningly around the room, measuring each being's reaction. 

Many shifted uneasily, unsure of what was meant by "liberties." It was a disturbing thought and more murmuring broke out, spontaneously halting seconds later in the hopes that Elrond would continue. 

The fair being inclined his head in acknowledgment, taking a step forward and folding his hands before him. "Some of you will leave," he announced. "Some of you will decide this business is not for you, that you would rather be supporting characters--which is a very noble role--and nobody will hold it against you. Only the strongest wills and the noblest beings will find this job to their liking. If there are any among us who already know the position of Hero is not for them, please feel free to leave now. Celboril will make sure you are properly provisioned for your journey." 

He paused and a group of small hobbits immediately jumped up and made their way out of the assembly. Some fifteen grim-looking and filthy individuals watched them go with fond smiles. Only a couple marked that five hobbits remained as all eyes were suddenly turned to a rather large, rather foul contingent of orcs who stood and made their way noisily from the area, jostling each other roughly. The elves who happened to be in their path unobtrusively and quickly moved out of the way until they were gone before returning to their previously positions, grimaces of disgust momentarily marring their faces before the magic of Rivendell erased their foul stench. Various humans, farmers by the looks of them, also stood and left, apologetic smiled on their faces: they had families to take care of, after all. 

Once everyone was again settled, Elrond spoke. "Now, we will get down to business. Not all of you will survive the culling process, and even fewer of you will be up to the exacting standards of our most excellent and renowned Fanfiction Writers. They, ultimately, are the final judges you must impress. They provide you with everything, and without their favor you will not last long." He paused dramatically. "Before this is over, many of you may wish you have never even heard of them." He once again glanced quickly around at the assembled and found everyone ready. Inside, he cheered, there would be someone from this bunch ready and willing to take over so that he could have a break. Five millenia were too long long to be at the mercy of some many . . . talented individuals. He half sat on the arm of his chair. 

"Dutifully forewarned, I digress. Those who are called to be heroes must be selfless. You will be called on countless times to act on the behalf of others in many extremely dangerous situations in order to counter the spread of evil and darkness in the free lands of Middle-earth. You must be noble, humble, and fair. Strong enough to lead, wise enough to follow. Possessed of mercy for those less fortunate than you, those who have fallen to evil but are not evil. It is difficult to show compassion for those who may have done you harm, but that is the creed of all heroes." 

Dwarves and elves glanced at each other, dislike and disgust settled on their faces. The prospect of being nice to each other did not appeal to either side. Left out of the fued, Aragorn laughed at the irony of the elvish and dwarvish fued that few even remembered the origin of. Few things would an elf and a dwarf agree upon, but this. . . . Yes, they could agree they hated each other. Now, who was to blame, however, was a different story. The human's laughter earned him a glare from his friend. Knowing smiled again passed between the two elders. Both sides stayed put. Neither would admit defeat unless the other did. 

"Aside from these attributes, you must also be willing to endure pain, both physical and mental, and many hardships. Our writers delight in creating the most daunting quandries for their heroes. You must also be smart, creative, and able to keep a cool head in panic situations. Your job will not be esay. You will be called upon to face farge numbers of orcs--sometimes as many as or more than a hundred single-handedly, hoards of spiders, packs of wolves or Wargs, slavers, suspicious villagers, all with dignity and reserve. Eventually, you may be aked to face the Nazgul or a Balrog, and even more sinister shadows that lurk from the depths of Morgoth that have yet to be discovered. It is a well of evil that must be destroyed. 

"In the quest to destroy this evil you will be called on to face and endure many things. The list grows even longer the more time passes as new atrocities are invented by the creative minds of our writers. Nevertheless, you are likely to be stabbed by swords, shot, cursed, whipped, poisoned, knocked over the side of a cliff, tumbled into a ravine, suspended over pits filled with razor sharp spikes, caught in cave-ins, subjected to curses, caught in hunting traps, beaten, fall prey to ancient grudges, hypothermia, and man-eating plants, caught by avalanches and ancient buildings, and dropped from your occassional suspension bridge to be attacked by Wargs. You will face earthquakes, rain, sleet, and snow, the full fury of whatever Middle-earth can throw at you, likely when you can least afford the added trouble. If you can survive it, it will happen." He looked at them with a small smile. "In fact, you may be surprised what you can live thorough. 

"Before your death, you will have broken nearly every bone in your body at least once, especially your ribs, received multiple concussions, bruises, cuts, scrapes, scratches, contusions, and will probably have lost at least your bodyweight in blood, hopefully not all at once." 

The two elves once again surveyed the group before them. More than a few looked a touch green in teh face, others looked dazed. Only a very few seemed to be taking this news in stride and Elrond silently cheered again, while at the same time in a very, very small part of his mind, far in the back, he was pitying the poor souls who were placing themselves at the Torture Writers' mercy. Only those already on the inside knew about them, and by the time you were in, the only way out was death, unless you were an elf--but then they could "play" with you so much longer. 

Elrond schooled his expression to look grave. "Again, any who feel this endeavor is beyond them is free to elave with no shame. Not everyone is called to this as not everyone can long endure the rigors of being a hero. And there is always next year if you change your mind." 

No one moved for a moment, but just has he had known they would, more men, elves, and dwarves stood up to leave, some moving faster than others, some moving slower. Eventaully, they were all gone and stillness returned to the large area. He looked over the crowd of roughly fifty individuals seated scattered throughout the area. He gestured themi n closer and they crowded up to the front. 

He nodded at each of them, satisfied with the turn-out. He would be allowed to pass over the sea soon, for he would no longer be needed. "You have passed the first test, of sorts. It will be the easiest of the tests you will face, and if yu pass and are chosen, tehy do not end. You merely move on to a new set with different stakes. Now, I give you Lord Glorfindel." 

He stepped back and the blonde elf lord stepped forward, commanding attention. "I am Lord Glorfindel. I will be overseeing the test that will cull those unsuitable for this line of work from the ranks. Be prepared to do anything. The test will be representative of the types of things you will be expected to endure. We will begin tomorrow morning. I suggest you all get your rest." 

One by one, each stood up and made their way to their rooms, or the garden, or where ever else they desired to go while they waited for the trials to begin. Eventually, only two remained, a dark haired human and a blonde haired elf, neither paying any attention to the two elves watching them 

"So what do you think, Elf? Up to the challenge?" 

"More so than you, Human," he shot back, tone challenging. 

The two smirked at each other as they headed for the gardens. "Oh yeah?" Aragorn challenged. 

"Yeah," Legolas replied, smile widening. "After all, it can't be worse than growing up in King Tranduil's court." 

Aragorn's smile widened as well. "Or growing up with Elladan and Elrohir as brothers." 

"Or dodging all those clingy maidens," Legolas added. 

The human laughed. "I'll just have to trust you on that one, my friend. How about that time with Araiyou? Can't be worse than that." 

"Shh!" Legolas hissed as he glanced around, eyes wide. "He willl hear you!" 

"He won't either." 

"He may. That . . . thing--he's freaky!" 

"I thought you said not to speak of him," Aragorn taunted, skipping in front of his friend before turning to walk backwards so her faced the other, a playful glint in his eyes. "Might come back to haunt us." 

"He might." 

"Come on, Legolas! That was a long time ago." 

"Not that long ago," Legolas countered. "And besides, he's your relative." 

"What does that have to do with it?" Aragorn demanded. 

Legolas tossed his hair over his shoulder haughtily. "Your family is decidedly difficult to get rid of." 

"Oh hush," the human demanded, mock offended. "That's not fun--" He cut off suddenly as his eyes slid passed his friend, horror transforming his features. "L-Legolas, l-look!" he stuttered, pointing a trembling finger behind the prince. 

Both had stopped and Legolas slowly turned to look behind him, apprehension clearly written all over his face. Nothing was behind him, anywhere. He turned back around at the sound of laughter to find Aragorn flying down the path, bursting with laughter. 

"STRIDER!" he yelled, pelting after Aragorn. "You get back here, you sorry human! You're going to pay for that!" With that, both disappeared from sight, leaving the two elf lords behind to listen to their shrieks of laughter. 

Glorfindel look at Elrond. "Remind you of anyone?" he asked, smiling. 

"Of course," Elrond replied, glancing sidelong at his friend. "You." 

"Me?" Glorfindel laughed. "What about you?" 

"Oh I don't know. . . ." He trailed off and the other shoved him slightly. They started walking into the house, silent and thoughtful. Finally, "Rather handsome, aren't they," Elrond commented. 

"Rather," the blonde elf agreed. They looked at each other, then looked forward again and continued walking in silence. Then, "Likely they're really good fighters, right? Son of Arathorn, Prince of Mirkwood." 

"Likely." 

More silence, then, "Do you think the Fanfic Writers will ike them?" 

Elrond smiled. "My friend, I think the Fanfic Writers will love them." More silence. 

"Good." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Author's Postscript: That's the end. I have no plans to go any further with it. If you feel I should or want to read some more, you'll have to tell me. Feel free to offer ideas. I'll even give you credit for it if I use your idea! *g* Review. I dare ya. 


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